


one thing I'll never know (is how you could be a ghost)

by gwenoakley



Series: this isn't easy (but that's how it's supposed to be) [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Ironfamily, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is alive, Why?, because I said so, but it's fluffy in the end i promise, happy father's day to tony stark only, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenoakley/pseuds/gwenoakley
Summary: After the Snap, May and Peter move into the lake house with the Starks. At first, it's perfect; it feels just like home, despite Peter's dwindling mental health.And then Harley Keener shows up.
Relationships: May Parker/Happy Hogan, Peter Parker & Harley Keener, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Series: this isn't easy (but that's how it's supposed to be) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795921
Comments: 17
Kudos: 185





	one thing I'll never know (is how you could be a ghost)

**Author's Note:**

> can't believe I wrote a 12K one shot, but I'm super proud of this one, despite the fact that it took me three months to complete. title comes from Ghost by Last Night Saved My Life :)

At first it was just him and May.

Tony offered to let them stay at the lake house before he was even out of the hospital, rambling about how the economy was going to crash with the Blipped population coming back, and there’d be no way they could find an apartment. “We have plenty of room,” Tony said before May could protest. “It’s nothing, please. We insist.”

Later, Peter would overhear Pepper telling May that the real reason Tony begged them to stay was because he couldn’t bear the idea of being away from Peter, after losing him for five years. It put a knot in his stomach he couldn’t get rid of, a voice in his head telling him he was just a burden.

They’d moved in as soon as Tony got out of the hospital, half his face covered in burn scars and missing his right arm, but that was quickly replaced with a red-and-gold vibranium prosthetic straight from King T’Challa’s genius sister. He was still weak and exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from doing everything he could to help Peter and May move in, despite Pepper constantly snapping at him to stop and get some rest.

May was set up in the guest room down the hall, but Peter—Tony gently squeezed his shoulder and led him away from May’s room, where she and Pepper were talking about what else she needed. “I wanna show you something,” he whispered. 

Bewildered, Peter followed, eyes still wide as he tried to take in the rest of the lake house. He didn’t think anything else could surprise him after coming back after five years into an intergalactic war, but finding out Tony had retired as Iron Man, had moved into a house upstate, and had a _daughter_ —it was more than Peter could comprehend. 

He’d almost thought he was going into cardiac arrest when Pepper and Morgan came into Tony’s hospital room where he already was, curled up in an armchair right next to his bedside, and the little girl said in an awed whisper, “Mommy, is that Peter?”

Tony had grinned brightly. “Yeah, Morgoona, it is. That’s your big brother.”

It was a shock Peter couldn’t even begin to explain, even when Morgan bounced up to him and said, “Hi! I’m Morgan! Daddy says you’re my big brother. Are you finally back?”

It was a long time before he could find his voice. “Y-yeah. I guess I am,” he finally choked out. 

Morgan was sunshine in its purest form, and despite the shock and confusion he felt knowing Morgan saw him as her brother, Peter instantly fell in love with her. “Good!” she exclaimed. “Mommy, can we get some juice pops?”

She didn’t even seem phased by Peter’s sudden appearance, or Tony’s near-death and subsequent injury. Not even when May and Peter moved in. If anything, it seemed to make her happier.

Her joy almost— _almost_ —made the transition easier for Peter. 

As it turned out, Tony had another room for Peter—but it wasn’t a guest room, like May’s was. May’s new room was furnished, but like a hotel room, with everything crisp and generic and unfamiliar. Peter expected his to be the same. 

But when Tony pushed the door open, it was… it was _his_ , there was no doubt about it. There was his plaid blanket on the bed, a framed picture of him, Ned and MJ at an academic decathlon event on the dresser, and a stained MIT sweatshirt Peter immediately recognized as Tony’s folded up on the desk. There was even an Iron Man Build-A-Bear propped up against the pillows. 

It was his room. 

“You—you made a room for me?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. “Why—“

Tony chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t be home without a room for you,” he said. “Put it together as soon as we moved in.”

Peter slowly tiptoed inside, fingers trailing against the blanket. It was the same one he’d sobbed into after Ben’s death, the one that still smelled like the cologne he always wore. Even when the smell faded, Peter still curled up with it at night, letting the scratchy material press against his cheek. 

“How did you—?”

“When I got back… the Avengers had a kind of meeting, I guess, where they were getting the lists of who had… you know. And when I say May’s name… once I gained some of my strength back, we went back to your old apartment and grabbed everything we could.” Tony lowered his voice. “Pep’s in there now giving her some pictures we brought back, of Ben and your parents.”

“But I was—we were—“

“We weren’t just gonna forget about you,” Tony said, his hand trailing through Peter’s curls. “And like I said, this couldn’t be a home to me without a place for you.”

Peter smiled tearfully, looking up to meet Tony’s gaze. “I love it,” he whispered. 

Tony beamed, leaning down to kiss Peter’s forehead. “I’m glad,” he said. “I love you, kiddo.”

Peter was still getting used to this new version of Tony—while they had become closer and more affectionate after the whole Homecoming debacle, it was still hard for him to reconcile the Tony Stark who recruited him for a fight in Germany to the man standing in front of him today. He was still getting used to the kind smiles, the forehead kisses, the random “I love you’s” as they just sat in the living room. Peter didn’t hate it, not at all, but it was just another new thing in his life. 

And he just had to deal with it. 

At first it was just him and May, and it worked. It felt like home. Rhodey and Happy came by occasionally, usually with food, but they didn’t stay. It was nice for Peter to have at least one place that felt secure, where he could mostly ignore the world outside, a world that had moved on without him. At least here, he felt welcomed. 

For the most part. 

There were moments where Peter was brutally reminded that he _didn’t_ belong with Tony—when he saw him having tea with Morgan and her stuffies in the living room; when he mentioned something that took place after the Snap; when Tony stopped inviting him to work in the lab with him. 

“Daddy’s lab is off limits,” Morgan told him one night after dinner when Tony went in. “He says he needs it to be alone.”

Peter felt a flash of hurt. Back at the Tower, whenever Peter spent the night, the lab was always _their_ place—to work, to laugh, to comfort each other. It was _theirs_. 

And now he was banished from it. 

A couple of months passed, and Rhodey and Happy were around a lot more, making Peter feel even more like a burden. When they were around, Tony barely interacted with him, making small talk at dinner but not much else. Around the same time, he met Nebula for the first time—a blue cyborg lady, one of the Guardians of the Galaxy, someone who’d fought against Thanos with them on Titan, and apparently, someone else Tony was close to. She stopped by the lake house one night, out of nowhere, and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when she appeared in the living room with him. 

“Tony!” he shouted, terror overwhelming him. His mind flooded with the possibilities—were they being attacked again? Or robbed? Was she going to kidnap him or Morgan?

But as Tony came downstairs, he merely rolled his eyes at Peter. Almost like he was annoyed with him. “Relax, kid. She’s just sayin’ hi.” He held his fist out to Nebula and smiled. “Back from another mission?”

Peter watched in awe as Nebula slowly tapped her metal fist against Tony’s. “Yes, Rocket dropped me off here before he went back to Xandar,” she said.

“So you’re staying for a while?” Tony asked. “We can set up the guest room if you want.”

Nebula nodded once. “I do not need the guest room,” she said. “I will keep watch at night.”

Tony smiled. “Alright, blueberry, but the offer’s there.” Finally, he seemed to notice Peter again, and he said, “Hey, Pete, this is Nebula.”

“Oh, um—“ Peter’s mouth was dry. “Hi. I’m sorry.”

Nebula merely blinked at him. There was a hint of recognition in her steely gaze but not much more. “Hello,” she said. 

Her monotone voice made Peter shrink into himself more. Tony had returned his full attention to her, and he desperately tried to ignore the ache in his chest. How many more people were going to show up here to stay? How many more people would Tony bring it to ignore him?

He thought Nebula was it. She stayed for about a week, usually in the background but still a bigger figure than Peter, before she left again for another mission. He thought once Nebula was gone, once Rhodey and Happy left for longer than a day, he would start to feel better. 

And then Tony mentioned Harley. 

“Who’s Harley?” Peter asked, curled up against the opposite end of the couch with the sleeves of his sweater pulled over his hands one night. Tony was working on something on his StarkPad—it was just them in the living room, since Pepper, May and Morgan were upstairs watching Moana, per Morgan’s request, but still Peter felt like Tony barely even noticed he was in the room.

He felt invisible. Less than. A burden. To the one person Peter thought actually wanted him.

”Oh, some kid I met years ago during a mission gone wrong,” Tony said, barely even glancing up. Peter was noticing that more, how he was already doing something else whenever he was talking—barely—to him. “I felt bad never calling him all those years, and I tried getting back in contact with him, but records said he’d been Snapped, too… made me feel worse, after how much of an asshole I was to him when we first met. It kept nagging at me so as soon as I got home I made sure to find him again. He’s still getting used to things, of course, but I invited him out here for—shit, this isn’t what I wanted.”

Peter sighed quietly as Tony got distracted by something else on his tablet, sinking further into the couch like he could just disappear. He thought Tony invited him and May to live with them because he didn’t want to be without him, but ever since they’d moved in, it felt like Tony wasn’t even seeing him. He’d never felt more unwanted, despite sitting only a few feet away from the one person he thought cared about him more than anything.

Peter didn’t want another person in the lake house. He wasn’t _ready_. He knew it wasn’t his choice—wasn’t his home, wasn’t even his family—but still. He didn’t want someone else to pull him even further away from Tony. 

But he didn’t get a choice.

—

Harley Keener comes into their lives like a hurricane, all Southern drawl and loud laughter and crude jokes. He punches Tony in the arm when he first walks in the front door and says, “It’s been a minute, old man,” and Tony chuckles, wraps his arm around his shoulder and pulls him all the way inside. He’s absolutely beaming, even as Harley scoffs in disgust at the contact and rolls his eyes.

He is the exact opposite of Peter. And Tony _loves_ him.

“Hello to you too, Keener,” he says happily. “You’ve grown.”

“Well, I would hope so, it’s been ten frickin’ years,” Harley deadpans. “Nice place you got here. Was the city no longer big enough to fit your huge ego?”

“Ha, you’re one to talk,” Tony says, finally letting go of him. “Come on, let’s go meet the family.”

Peter finally sits up a little straighter, tries to at least look a little bit friendly, expecting Tony to bring Harley into the living room so they can meet… but instead, he completely turns around and leads him into the kitchen. Away from him.

Peter watches them leave, watches them disappear into the other room, listens to Pepper’s joyful voice exclaiming, “So you’re the famous Tennessee boy I’ve heard so much about,” listens to Tony’s boisterous laugh echo through the hallway to where Peter still sits on the couch, alone. Forgotten.

Peter looks down at the book he was trying to read, still open to the same page he was at twenty minutes ago. It’s a Star Wars novel about Ahsoka, published two years ago. She’s always been one of Peter’s favorite characters, but he can’t focus. He can still hear everyone in the kitchen talking, thanks to his advanced hearing, and he can’t stand it.

They haven’t even mentioned him.

Overwhelmed, he jumps to his feet, ignoring the book that falls to the floor, and rushes upstairs, letting his hair fall into his face, trying to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. He feels so _worthless_ —how could his own family not even notice his absence?

Family. He scoffs at the mere thought as he pushes his door open, letting his eyes wander around the room. Tony made this room for him while he was still gone—that even when he’d moved out of the city to start his new life, he still remembered to include Peter.

Now it just feels fake.

He lays down on the bed and curls up on his side, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, willing himself not to cry. The voice in his head returns, the same one that told him he was a burden, louder this time, shouting at him, telling him everyone would be better off if he hadn’t come back.

Tony had claimed he missed him for the five years he was snapped away, so much so that he turned back the hands of time just to bring him back. But did he really miss him, or just the idea of him?

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to the smell of Indian food wafting up the stairs. He sits up slowly, gingerly, rubbing his eyes and stretching. He wonders if anyone even remembered to invite him to dinner, and he almost wants to keep hiding out in here, selfishly waiting for someone to notice his absence, but he’s hungry.

He tiptoes downstairs, awkwardly self-conscious, and peeks his head into the living room. Harley, Tony and Morgan are sitting on the couch, watching TV—Peter recognizes it as the murder mystery he’s been wanting to watch for weeks, and feels a flash of hurt. Rhodey and Happy are here, too, sitting with May at the bar in the kitchen, talking with Pepper, who’s stirring something on the stove. He doesn’t see Nebula, but figures she’s just on another mission with the Guardians. Despite not really being close to her, Peter can’t help but miss her—as another black sheep in their so-called family, maybe they could’ve bonded over being ostracized by everyone else.

Peter looks back in the living room. He hasn’t even been here for a full day, and already Harley has more of a place here than he does.

He inches closer into the room, anxiously tugging at his sleeves. “Yeah, I always knew Ransom was the killer,” Harley says, not even looking away from the TV. “It was obvious he wasn’t a good guy from the beginning.”

 _Thanks for the spoiler,_ Peter thinks bitterly.

“I dunno, I didn’t see it coming,” Tony says, his real hand carding through Morgan’s hair as she sits in his lap, coloring. “I thought it was gonna be Walt.”

“Nah, that would’ve been too easy,” Harley shrugs. “Ransom wasn’t easy, but if you were smart enough to notice the details it was obvious the moment Marta snuck out.”

“He kinda looks like Cap,” Tony says thoughtfully.

“Barely,” Harley replies.

Another step closer, making the wood floors creak under his weight, and finally, Tony turns around to acknowledge him. “Well, there he is,” he says. “Wondered where you’d wandered off too.”

Peter notices immediately that Tony doesn’t say that they missed him, that they just wondered where he was. The knife in his ribs twists. “Uh, yeah,” he says, wondering if he can even sit down with them, if he can squish against Tony’s side the way he used to, Before. “Is dinner almost ready?”

“As soon as the bread is done,” Tony says. “So, like, ten minutes?”

“We’re having Indian!” Morgan chirps, turning around to grin at him with that childlike innocence Peter almost forgot existed. “Petey, come sit with us!”

Harley twists around, too. Stares at him.

His mouth goes dry. “Oh, um—”

“Hey,” Harley says. “I’m Harley.”

It takes a moment for Peter to find his voice again. “Peter,” he says finally, clenching the hem of his t-shirt tightly. “Sorry I—couldn’t meet you. Earlier.”

“Eh, it was already too many people anyway,” Harley says dismissively, shrugging. “I needed a break.”

“Oh, right, cause you were struggling under all that love and affection we were giving you,” Tony deadpans, reaching over to tousle Harley’s hair. “So hard for you, huh?”

Harley’s jaw tightens, and he doesn’t respond.

Morgan’s still looking at him expectantly. “Come sit with me!” she complains. “Harley won’t let me cuddle with him.”

Something lights up in Peter’s chest. Finally, _finally_ , someone actually _wants_ him for something.

“Of course, M,” he tells her, plastering a grin on his face as he steps closer into the living room with more confidence than he had before. If nothing else, at least Morgan still sees him. 

But he stops right as he reaches the couch. There’s no room for him. Tony and Morgan are squished together on one end; Harley is stretched out on the other end and doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.

He doesn’t even look at Peter; he scrolls through something on his phone instead. 

Morgan groans loudly. “ _Harley_ , you gotta move over!” she complains, reaching over to whack his thigh. “I wanna sit with Petey!”

“Morgan!” Tony scolds sharply. “Harley was here first. Peter can sit on the chair.”

And just like that, all of Peter’s confidence is extinguished. 

Even _Tony_ doesn’t want him to sit with him. 

Morgan’s bottom lip juts out. “Daddy—“

“No buts,” Tony says, and turns back to the TV without another glance at Peter. “If you want you can sit next to him at dinner.”

Peter shoves his hands into his pockets, bows his head, and inches out of the room without another word. Morgan watches him with a sad expression but doesn’t say anything and Peter doesn’t dare meet her gaze.

Harley and Tony don’t react. The credits scroll on the TV. After a moment, Morgan returns to the coloring book still stationed on her lap. 

He’s not welcomed in the living room. So, he tries the kitchen. 

It smells strongly of curry and the edges of Peter’s mouth twitch up. Pepper’s stationed over the stove, hair pulled back in a bun as she stirs a giant pot in front of her. May and Happy sit together at the bar, hands entwined as May sips some wine. Rhodey leans against the counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he tells Pepper, “That smells like it’s gonna burn my face off.”

“You’re such a weakling, Rhodes,” Pepper teases. “You can drink whiskey like it’s nothing but complain about a little lamb curry?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Rhodey deadpans.

Peter lingers in the doorway, biting his lip. He wants to call out to May, hoping, _praying_ she’d notice him, invite him into the conversation, but he’s frozen. He’s still getting used to her dating anyone, much less Happy—it’s throwing him for a loop, seeing them together. He honestly never thought she’d date anyone again, after losing Ben. 

May laughs, the sound echoing through the spacious kitchen, and Peter can’t help but grin—and in the same breath, wishes it was just them again. 

He never had to worry about where he fit in before. With May, with Ned and MJ, even with Tony, before the Snap. When it was just him and May in a tiny apartment in the heart of Queens, he knew he was her family, and they were okay. 

He wants to go back to that, even if it means leaving everyone else behind. 

He knows that makes him sound like a horrible person, of _course_ he knows that, but honestly? He can’t bring himself to care. 

He misses when his family was just _his_. 

“You’ll love it, I promise,” Pepper says, jerking Peter back to the present. “Hey, Hap, can you go grab everyone in the living room for me? We’re just about ready here.”

Happy squeezes May’s hand once and stands up, and it’s only then that he notices Peter. “Oh, hey kid,” he says easily. “We couldn’t find you earlier. You feeling okay?”

Peter bites back a sob. It’s so basic, but it’s more than he’s gotten in weeks, since he started feeling worthless in the amalgam of people living here. But even he’s not an idiot—Happy doesn’t mean is he feeling okay _mentally_. He doesn’t care about that part. 

So he tries to smile convincingly and says, “Yeah, just tired.”

Happy eyes him curiously but otherwise lets it go, and Peter slides further into the kitchen to let Happy out. He’s a few feet from May, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, and she turns around and beams at him. “Hey, baby,” she says cheerfully. “We missed you.”

And there it is.

For the first time since Ben’s death, Peter feels a younger version of himself crying out, buried so deep inside him that he almost forgot it existed. _I miss you. I don’t like this. I wanna go home._

The lake house isn’t home to him.

May’s words have him frozen, emotions swelling to the surface, and she frowns slightly. “Honey? You okay?” she asks gently. 

And _God_ , there’s nothing more he wants than to run into her embrace and hide. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says instead once he finds his voice. “That smells amazing, Pepper.”

“Glad someone appreciates it,” she replies with a wink, and next to her, Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Peter, could you please do me a favor and take the naan out of the oven for me?”

“Sure,” he replies. _She needs me for something. Me!_

He reaches behind Rhodey to grab the oven mitt on the counter and slides it over his right hand, pulling the oven door open and hissing slightly as the heat slams into his face. There’s a cast iron pan on the center rack with some flatbread on it and Peter reaches in and pulls it out, laying it down on the stove.

“Great, thank you,” she says, stirring the pot of curry one last time before putting the lid on it. Just as she glances over her shoulder to smile kindly at Peter, Tony, Harley and Morgan come in, laughing noisily, and Peter _flinches._

_When did that happen?_

“Mm, smells delicious,” Tony says, walking over and resting his chin on Pepper’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper scoffs, but her eyes are bright with playfulness. “Of course, Mr. Stark. Everyone, grab your bowls and dish up over here while it’s still hot.”

Everyone grabs a bowl and gets into a line behind the stove, with Tony at the front and Peter stuck at the very rear. He’s behind Rhodey, who’s too busy joking with Tony about his slippery prosthetic to even acknowledge him.

It’s fine. Peter trails his finger against the side of the countertop, lets the chilly linoleum ground him in this moment. It gives him something else to focus on, instead of the growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He puts some rice in his bowl and steps up to the pot of curry, excited to get some for himself—he loves Indian food and it’s so rare that him and May order it—only to find that there’s none left.

His heart drops.

They couldn’t even remember him enough to leave him _food._

He scowls angrily at Rhodey’s back, but he’s oblivious, talking with everyone else at the table. Every single seat is filled, even both next to Morgan, which leaves Peter feeling more heartbroken than he expected… but even worse? The only seat left at the table is next to _Harley._

 _Fuck._ He’s so close to just dropping the bowl of rice and running back upstairs. To… the room he’s been assigned. It doesn’t feel right to call it _his_ room.

His stomach growls again. He grips the bowl tightly and goes to sit down.

Harley glances at him out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t say a word. Peter chews on the inside of his cheek until his mouth floods with a coppery taste and he picks up his fork.

“Okay, I admit I was wrong,” Rhodey says, mouth full. “This is fantastic.”

“Seriously,” May agrees.

“The bread’s a little burnt though,” Harley comments through a mouthful. “Tastes like after the Snap.”

Peter freezes.

The world blurs.

Dust. Ash. Death.

_Please, sir, I don’t wanna go—_

His body breaking up faster than his enhancements could keep it together, feeling it tear apart as he collapsed—

_I don’t know what’s happening—_

It burnt, every inch of his being, leaving him breathless as he fell into Tony’s arms, begging, pleading, even as he knew it was worthless—

_I’m sorry._

“Peter?”

He was back on Titan. Everyone else was gone, faded into nothingness in a matter of seconds. But Peter—

_Thanos. Thanos. He’s back._

_He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me—_

“Peter!”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. It feels like fire.

He stumbles to his feet, gasping for air, and everything feels fuzzy as he struggles to keep himself upright. He can’t do this, he _can’t_ —

He runs.

He hears a commotion behind him, but it sounds like static, another thing ready to take him down. He presses his hands against the walls, trying to remember how to get _away_ , and he knows that even as weak and frantic and _broken_ as he is now, he’s still faster than everyone else in the lake house, ready to hurt him at a moment’s notice.

They can’t reach him.

_I need help, please—_

His feet hit something cold and he gasps, shock spreading through his entire body. It numbs him for a moment, and he stops dead in his tracks, tipping dangerously forward—the world comes into clarity, just slightly, and Peter realizes he’s in the bathroom.

And he’s _falling._

A scream ripping from his throat, he shoves his hands out, bracing his fall against the side of the bathtub. The impact on his palms has him crying out again, and then he’s sprawled out on the floor, whimpering, lost in a memory with no way of pulling himself out.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY—_

He’s alone. He’s dying, again, atoms being shredded and he’s helpless to stop it—

“Fuck, Peter!”

He knows that voice. It was the last voice he heard for five years.

_You’re okay._

It was one of the first voices he heard after coming back.

_He did? Oh, no._

He can’t imagine how he looks right now--like a dying fish, most likely, gasping for air on a cold tile floor as the memories of Titan constantly pull him under, like tidal waves he’s unable to stop or control.

But Tony is _here._

“Fucking hell, kid—” and he sounds terrified, but the hand that presses against his cheek is gentle, soft, a reminder of Before. “Peter, shit, I need you to breathe, okay? You’re okay, you’re alright, you’re at home, but I need you to breathe.”

Tony says it like it’s such an easy thing to do, like his vocal cords, his skeleton, his _heart_ aren’t crumbling in front of them. _Just breathe._ If he wasn’t dying, Peter would probably roll his eyes.

He _can’t_ breathe. _He can’t fucking breathe!_

He remembers when he had panic attacks before. Memories of his fight with the Vulture, the building falling on him, Ben’s death, patrols gone wrong plaguing him, making him wake up screaming, sobbing, shaking. And Tony would be there, his voice quiet and loving as he coaxed his breathing back to normal, his calloused hand stroking up and down his back, or through his curls, letting Peter collapse against him as he sobbed uncontrollably. Unwavering, strong, safe. No matter what the nightmare was, Tony could pull him out of it, every time.

But now? When Peter’s remembering his own _death_ , on top of how unwanted he’s felt in this lake house? Tony’s ministrations, as well-intentioned as they may be, are useless.

He chokes on an inhale and Tony quickly sits him up, letting him slump against his arm as he leans down right next to Peter’s ear. “Breathe,” he whispers. “Just take it one breath at a time, _please_ , kiddo.”

 _He was so close to getting the gauntlet off, he was_ so close! _The Snap, what happened to everyone, was_ his _fault, he was so close and he failed!_

Tony’s voice fades back into static, and Peter feels the weight on his chest pressing down further, making it _impossible_ to breathe at all, and he panics—with what little strength he has left, he reaches up and grasps at Tony’s shirt.

His eyes are glazed, but the fear in them is so clearly visible it steals Tony’s breath for a moment.

He rocks him back and forth, whispering, pleading, playing with his hair and doing everything he can, everything that’s always helped Peter calm down, but nothing changes. If anything, it only makes it _worse_.

And then the door opens.

The world bleeds into clarity again. A tall, shaggy-haired figure stands in the doorway, hands wringing together.

“Harley,” Tony whispers hoarsely, instinctively gripping Peter tighter. “Bud, I told you to stay downstairs, you can’t—”

“Please let me try,” Harley says softly, and he almost sounds like he’s _begging._ Peter’s mouth opens and closes rapidly, trying to take a deep breath but to no avail, and he looks at Harley through the haze in his eyes. He doesn’t recognize him.

This isn’t the same asshole who walked in the front door a few hours ago.

Silence spreads between them. Tony nods slightly, but doesn’t make any move to let Peter go.

Harley steps into the bathroom, cracks his knuckles, and kneels down on the tile floor in front of Tony and Peter. “Hey,” he says quietly, and his voice almost has a musical quality to it. “You know there was this lake, back home in Rose Hill, where I’d go swimming every single day of summer. I wouldn’t go anywhere else, pretty much. It was just down the street from my house, hidden in the woods, and I kinda claimed it as just my spot. It was always the perfect temperature, with a dock on the edge where I’d try to do the perfect cannonball. If you were there after sunset, the view was the coolest thing you’d ever seen. Nothing could top it. We were far enough out that we didn’t have to worry about streetlights, and you could see all the stars if you just laid on the deck, all the constellations… and with the crickets chirpin’? It was the most peaceful thing ever. You just needed a blanket or a sweatshirt and you could’ve spent all night out there, just gazing. It was safe, you know, like no one could touch me out there. LIke the stars were protectin’ me.” He smiles slightly, rubs at the back of his neck. “When I was real small, I used to talk to ‘em. Go out there once Mama had fallen asleep and be like, ‘hey, Big Dipper, can I tell you what happened at school today?’ And I know it sounds cheesy now, but it’s like they were my friends, and it was so nice to have that connection. I think everyone needs that. That safety, that peace.”

Peter’s chest has stopped heaving. His mouth is dry, but he’s no longer wheezing. And most importantly, he can _breathe._

He stares at Harley like he’s seeing a ghost.

Tony taps his cheek once. “You with us now, kiddo?”

He blinks, looks up at Tony, taken aback at the pure love in his gaze. “Y-yeah,” he manages.

Tony’s face brightens, and he kisses Peter’s forehead before turning back to Harley. “Thank you,” he whispers, and it’s so clear that he means it.

Harley shrugs. “Of course,” he says quietly. “ Felt like I owed him that. I’m sorry for settin’ you off like that, Peter. I really didn’t mean to.”

And deep down, Peter knows he’s telling the truth. But he still doesn’t respond. He’s not sure how.

Someone taps softly on the doorframe and Peter sees May, Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey and Happy inching closer, bowls of curry in their hands. “Hey,” May whispers. “All good in here?”

“I think so,” Tony replies, just as quietly. “But I think this one might be down for the count.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Pepper says sweetly, and they all crowd into the bathroom, Morgan immediately squishing against Tony’s other side. “Figured it wouldn’t be a family dinner without the entire family, hmm?”

“And it doesn’t matter where we have it,” May adds. “As long as we’re all together.”

Rhodey and Happy nod their assent.

They all sit down, half in the bathroom and half in the hallway, and go back to eating their food, Tony keeping Peter in his arms as they go back to talking.

Harley glances over at him and smiles softly before making a lighthearted jab at Happy about his love of Downton Abbey.

For the most part, everything goes back to normal. But Peter doesn’t. If anything, he’s even more lost and conflicted now, laying in Tony’s embrace.

He lets the moment wash over him, and he prays to be taken away from it.

\--

Peter’s ceiling has those glow-in-the-dark stars on it. It’s the only light in his otherwise pitch-black room as he lays there silently, letting his mind wander. He doesn’t know how to feel, even after everything.

Someone raps softly on the door.

Peter frowns, slowly gets to his feet. He tiptoes over to the door, careful not to make a sound, and hesitates with his hand right above the doorknob. He knows it’s Tony right outside, it has to be, but part of him doesn’t want to see him. He’s still struggling with how he fits into his new family, his new life.

There’s a second knock, followed by a voice, timid and uncomfortable. “Parker?”

 _Fuck._ It’s Harley.

Peter’s not necessarily mad at him anymore, not after what he said in the bathroom, but the fact that he’s outside Peter’s door in the middle of the night doesn’t bode well for what’s to come. He knows he should just turn around and go back to bed, ignoring him until Harley gets the hint and leaves.

He opens the door.

Harley’s eyes widen slightly when Peter opens the door. He’s in sweatpants and an old Scooby-Doo t-shirt, the logo so faded it’s almost imperceptible. “Hey,” he murmurs.

Peter is careful to not let any emotion show on his face. “Hi.”

“Didn’t know if you’d still be up.”

“I don’t sleep much,” Peter shrugs.

“Me either,” Harley says, his voice relaxed, but Peter can see the pain behind his eyes. “Do you, uh, maybe want some company?”

Twelve hours ago, Peter saw Harley Keener as a cocky, annoying bully who Tony was going to replace him with. Six hours ago, Peter saw the facade start to melt away as he sat on the floor of the bathroom having a panic attack. He saw someone who almost looked like a friend.

He thinks he’s seeing that same person now, cast in a blue glow standing in his doorway.

“Sure,” he says.

Harley startles a bit at his answer, but smiles slightly as Peter moves aside to let him in. His movements are stiff and uncomfortable, but he stays, even though Peter can’t exactly see why he’s here in the first place. “I like your room,” he says.

“Thanks,” Peter replies curtly. He’s not _trying_ to be an asshole, he’s just—lost. He doesn’t exactly know why he opened the door at all, and he doesn’t really want Harley in his room, but as he stands there Peter suddenly realizes he’s too tired to keep up the attitude, the exhaustion from today—and the past few weeks he’s been here—seeping into his bones and threatening to pull him under for good. The resentment he feels—or thinks he feels—is too much to maintain anymore. He’s even starting to question if Harley deserved his bitterness, his anger. He’d been… surprisingly helpful earlier, something Peter could’ve never expected. Harley was the only one who’d been able to cut through the panic and settle him down. Even _Tony_ wasn’t able to do that in the moment. 

Moments pass in silence. Harley’s gaze wanders slightly but when it focuses back on Peter he’s almost surprised to see something akin to vulnerability in his eyes. Peter doesn’t turn away. They stare at each other, two feet apart, the glow-in-the-dark stars on Peter’s ceiling witnessing this strange moment, of two stubborn boys needing to break, but unwilling to even flinch. 

Amazingly, it’s Harley who shatters the silence between them, never once breaking eye contact. “I’m guessing you get them, too,” he says quietly, his nails scratching slightly against his pajama clad thighs. Peter notices the action immediately but stays silent. “The nightmares.”

Peter blinks. “Yeah,” he says tiredly.

Harley nods curtly and briefly glances over his shoulder, as if considering taking Peter’s clipped responses as a reason to leave. A knot forms in Peter’s stomach at the action and the words burst out of him before he can stop it—“Don’t go.”

Harley’s head whips back around and looks at Peter for a long moment. “Wasn’t goin’ anywhere,” he says quietly. “Just making sure Tony wasn’t still awake.”

“Oh.” Peter feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Why was he so scared at the mere thought of Harley leaving his room, when during his attack he wanted nothing more than for him to leave?

“I get it,” Harley says, and he inches further into the room. Peter gently nudges the door shut and suddenly everything feels heavier. “I never wanted to be alone when I had those nightmares, either.”

He looks up at the stars on the ceiling and something in him changes. His shoulders slump, his gaze becomes faraway, and his voice becomes almost inaudible. “So I just thought I could help you. If… if that’s okay.”

“Were you?” Peter asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. _God_ , he’s not sure how to approach this. “Alone, I mean.”

Harley flinches at the word, still not looking away from the stars, and Peter hates himself. No matter how he’s feeling towards Harley in this moment—something even he can’t decipher—he doesn’t want to hurt him. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, um. My dad left when I was a kid, and—and my mama got into some bad stuff. So I had to take care of my little sister with what we had, and with what Mr. Stark was still giving me… but it wasn’t enough. _I_ wasn’t enough.”

His fingers scratch incessantly at his leg. “I took care of Daisy as best I could. But with Dad bein’ gone, and Mama… I couldn’t let Daisy see her doing drugs or bringing home a new bum every night to fuck around with, but it’s not like we had anywhere else to go. But she came first—she was only three when Dad left, and if Mama wasn’t going to take care of her, then it had to be me, even if… even if I couldn’t handle it.”

The scratching gets worse and Harley heaves a sigh, sinks down on the edge of Peter’s bed. He doesn’t even know if Harley is still aware that he’s here, or if he’s truly back in that memory. His eyes are clouded but his voice is clear. “So to protect her, I had to witness it all. The drugs, the guys, and everything she did when she was high—I took it all willingly. I thought maybe one day she’d stop, she’d come to her senses… I even used to wish that she would overdose, even though I know that makes me sound evil. But it would be the only way we’d get outta there.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, but he does sit down next to Harley on the bed, being sure to keep a safe distance. It’s obvious he has a lot of story to tell, and Peter can tell by the strain in his voice that he needs to get it out. 

So he sits, and he listens. 

“She didn’t,” Harley says, and there’s a slight hint of sadness in his voice. “I, uh. The Snap happened, and Mama and Daisy were out somewhere, grocery shopping, I think, and I was home—and then that was it. I was gone. And—when I came back, and I was back in my room, the same place I was when it happened… I fully expected Daisy to come running in. Mama… I don’t know what I expected with her. But Daisy, yes. A hundred percent. Even when I came back, I wasn’t sure what had happened, not really… but you know. Gut feelings and all that. Something was wrong. I went out lookin’ for her… and—”

He shakes his head. Squeezes his eyes shut.

“Her and Mama both survived the Snap. But they were out drivin’, and… not everyone else was so lucky. One of the drivers on the road was Snapped, and… his car went outta control. Slammed straight into them. Cops said it was instant.” His face is white, and he’s beginning to shake, chin almost touching his chest. “I never even got to say goodbye. I dedicated my entire life to protectin’ her, and… when she needed me most, that fucking Snap... “

“Harley,” Peter whispers, and before he can really think it through he’s leaning over and wrapping his arms around his trembling frame, heart clenching when he hears Harley gasp in shock. He doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t let go.

It’s silent for a long, heartbreaking moment but finally a choked-off sob echoes through Peter’s empty room and Harley, for what Peter can imagine is probably the first time, finally allows himself to let go, weeping into Peter’s shoulder. They’re awkwardly crammed against each other, Harley’s neck bent at an uncomfortable angle as he burrows into the crook of Peter’s shoulder, but neither of them move. Peter tightens his arms around Harley, pulling him even closer, whispering soothing words under his breath, all of which fall on deaf ears as Harley sobs. But Peter never stops, never moves away, never stops holding him.

It’s what Tony would’ve done.

Finally the sobs taper off into soft whimpers and stray tears that slip down his red cheeks, and he slowly lets his grip on Peter’s shirt loosen as he pulls away. His face is pinched in pain and there are bags under his eyes that are suddenly more predominant than they were when Harley first came in here. He swallows hard, looks down at his lap. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I miss her.”

“Don’t apologize,” Peter says automatically. “I’m here.”

“First time I’ve talked about it,” Harley admits quietly, and he almost sounds ashamed, like he shouldn’t be allowed to mourn losing his entire family. “With—with the Snap happenin’, no one thought to give them a funeral. They, um… kinda got lost in the mess of everyone who was dusted. And it wasn’t like they had anyone to ask about ‘em, since I was…”

Peter’s heart clenches. “You’re allowed to be upset about it, and talk about it however you need to,” he says quietly. “If you need to break down and scream because it wasn’t fair, you can and I’ll be there if you need someone. Or if you just wanna share some fun memories you had with Daisy, you can do that, too. But you don’t have to suffer alone.”

Harley sniffs. “Thanks,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to… ruin your shirt.”

Peter barely glances at it. “I got it at Goodwill. And besides, making sure you don’t fall apart is more important.”

A ghost of a smile flits across Harley’s lips. It’s something, Peter thinks.

They don’t say anything for awhile after that. Harley scrubs at the remaining tears on his face, and Peter tries to figure out what to do now. They’ve already seen each other at their most vulnerable; where does the conversation go from here? Finally, he settles on a subject he can trust.

“How’d you meet Tony?” Peter asks, tucking his feet up underneath him. “He… he never really mentioned you, before he said you were coming out here a few days ago.”

Harley snorts humorlessly. “Makes sense. He was still sendin’ me money and supplies all those years but actual human connection isn’t where Tony really thrives. He crash-landed in Rose Hill a few years ago and ended up in my shed. I stuck around for a bit while he dealt with some shit, and helped him with some Iron Man stuff when he went back to Florida. After that—I mean, it’s not like he _forgot_ about me, but… well, I shouldn’t say that. It’s not like we had a relationship for the one week he let me follow him around.”

Peter swallows. “He said he felt bad,” he admits quietly. “For not calling you, after.”

Harley glances at him. “Huh,” he says, swinging his legs out in front of him. “Wonder how that conversation would’ve gone.”

He bites his lip. “Probably differently than it would’ve been back when I first met him,” he muses. “I mean—he’s not the same person anymore. Not in a bad way, but—the way he was helping you? It was like some kinda alternate dimension Tony Stark.”

“He’s not the same person he was when I met him either,” Peter says. “And you’re right, it’s not a bad thing, but—takes some getting used to. Especially after I was… you know.”

“Yeah,” Harley agrees quietly. “You, uh—you never told me how you met him.”

Peter gnaws on the inside of his cheek, debates on how he’s going to tell this story while still keeping Spider-Man a secret. After all, Tony wanted Spider-Man before he ever wanted Peter Parker. 

Harley jumps in before he can even open his mouth. “Before you get all freaked out, Tony did give me a heads up. Didn’t tell me any details, and told me to keep it quiet, of course, but—yeah, he told me.”

For a fleeting moment Peter almost wants to get mad at Tony for revealing his identity to someone like Harley. But instead he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Probably a good thing Tony told you ahead of time,” he said. “Morgan would’ve snitched the second you came inside.”

Harley laughs. “Yeah, she would’ve. She’s damn proud to have Spider-Man as her big brother.”

Peter flushes a deep red. He’s still shocked that Morgan sees him as her brother; even more so that Tony spent all five years he was dead telling Morgan she had a brother. Even when he still believed Peter was dead for good.

“Did he tell you that I was—um.” Peter’s throat closes up and he can’t finish the sentence. Fuck, how pathetic is he, that he can’t even say the word without being plunged back into another panic attack?

Luckily, Harley understands. “No, he didn’t. But—I guess it’s kinda my fault that I found out that you were.”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter says automatically, and he feels some more tension drain from his body when Harley laughs out loud. 

“Damn, Parker. Haven’t even known you for a day and you’re already blaming me for shit,” he says, playfully nudging his shoulder. It’s so surprisingly natural that Peter shoves him back, grinning. 

“To be fair, you deserved that,” he says.

“Maybe,” Harley says lightheartedly, running a hand through his hair. “So how did you meet the old man? Was it because of Spider-Man?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “He recruited me for a fight in Germany. You remember the Sokovia Accords? It was basically if that shit got physical. Tony said he’d keep tabs on me after the fight—but he meant Spider-Man, of course. But to keep that under the radar, we made up a lie that I was his intern. It kept May and Flash and whoever else from finding out the truth. Even Ned, for a little bit. And I guess… at one point, he started taking more of an interest in me. And…”

“You’re his son,” Harley whispers. “That’s what he told me when he invited me out here. Tellin’ me all about his kids and how well I’d get along with his son. And of course Morgan kept tellin’ me all afternoon about her big brother.”

Peter flushes red. “Still doesn’t feel real,” he admits, avoiding Harley’s gaze. “That I’m part of his… family. Especially now that he _has_ a real family.”

“I’ve always hated that,” Harley says. “That whole ‘real family’ hierarchy people seem to have. This idea that biological family is the only thing that matters just pisses me off, because not all of us got that damn lucky, you know? So we gotta find family somewhere else. You found a fucking father figure in Iron Man when he showed up at your doorstep, and he’s not anything ‘less than’ because you’re not related. That’s still your dad. Morgan’s still your little sister. May’s… I know she’s your aunt but I saw her tonight, she’s your mom in every way that matters. Tony may be married and have a daughter now, but that doesn’t at all erase his relationship with you.”

Peter stares at him, surprised when tears cloud his vision. “God damn, how are you so good at this?” he asks, scrubbing at his eyes. “I haven’t even known you for a full twenty four hours but you know _exactly_ what to say to help me. Are you fuckin’ magic?”

Harley smirks. “Wouldn’t go that far,” he says. “I just like helping people I care about.”

Their eyes meet. Vulnerability and fear and loneliness and shame and honesty reflects in their gazes. “You have a family here, too,” Peter whispers. “If you—if you want it. I know Tony would take you in without a second thought.”

Harley chews on the inside of his cheek, staring at the ground. “He already has a houseful,” he hedges. Peter knows that tone, it’s the same one he and May both used when Tony immediately offered them a home here. It’s the need to take what is being offered with pride keeping a firm grasp on you, making you unable to accept it. “It’d be too much.”

“May and I are the only ones who actually live here,” Peter says. “Nebula comes by in between Guardians missions but she never sleeps at all, and Rhodey and Happy are just… really common visitors. Harley, you know the minute you tell Tony the truth, he’s not gonna give you another choice. He didn’t for us.”

“Makin’ me a charity case.”

“Making you someone he cares about,” Peter corrects instantly.

Harley side-eyes him hesitantly. “How am I supposed to tell him that I’ve been lying to him about my entire goddamn family bein’ dead?” he asks. “That’s not just something I can bring up over brunch.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Peter agreed. “But it _is_ something you have to bring up. Harley, you can’t go back to Tennessee and keep living on the streets.”

“I’m not livin’ on the streets!” Harley snaps suddenly, viciously. “I’m still livin’ in our house. They still think it’s abandoned. Got all the furniture and shit.”

Peter raises his hands in surrender. “But you’re still alone,” he says gently, like he’s talking to a wild animal. “You can try to say that you’re fine still living in the house and surviving off what Tony’s still sending you… but you’re still alone. You were gone for five years, you came back to that news about your family… it can’t have been easy. I know it’s hard to accept help, especially to this extreme. Believe me, I know. But you need to tell Tony. Let him give you everything you lost because you know he will without even a second thought. A home, safety, stability…” Peter’s voice softens. “A family.”

After getting bit by a radioactive spider, losing his uncle, becoming a superhero, meeting Tony Stark, fighting a maniacal purple alien on a foreign planet, and _dying_ for five years, Peter Parker has learned that life is messy, unpredictable, painful, and sometimes amazing.

In this moment right now, it’s all of those feelings at once.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment, but finally Harley cracks a smile. “Weren’t you the one struggling with this whole family thing just a few hours ago?” he teases gently. “And now you’re wanting me to tag along?”

Peter looks down, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, I was,” he admits quietly. “And I was even mad at you when you first showed up, because I thought—I thought Tony was gonna replace me with you.” Harley’s jaw drops and he’s about to start laughing, Peter can tell, but he stops him before he can. “I’m serious. I overheard Pepper tell May when we first moved in that Tony really only wanted us living here because he was so terrified of being away from me, but ever since I’ve been here it’s felt like he’s completely ignoring me, and then all of a sudden you showed up, and… fuck, you were the exact opposite of me. Loud, rude, obnoxious—no offense.” Harley snorts but otherwise stays quiet. “And part of me thought that maybe that’s what Tony wanted more? Because you—you were gone, too, but it didn’t change you the way it did me. Maybe Tony was sick of my struggles and he wanted you more, because he wouldn’t have to drag him through the mud and whatever.”

“Tony isn’t dragging me through the mud because he doesn’t _know_ I’m stuck there,” Harley says. “There’s a difference. And you said it yourself; the second Tony finds out what I’m really doin’ in Rose Hill? He’s gonna be draggin’ me along right beside you. Not because it’s an obligation, but because somehow, for some insane reason, he loves us and he’d do anything for us.”

Peter shakes his head. “My point was, I absolutely expected Tony to trade me for you. It seemed so clear to me when you first arrived that that’s what his plan was. And now the only thing I want is for you to tell him the truth so you can live here, too. I still don’t know what my place is here, exactly. I really don’t. But I know we both deserve a family, and they’re under this roof right now.”

There’s a twinkle in Harley’s eyes as he processes what Peter just said, and it reminds him so much of Tony that it almost takes his breath away. How is it that they haven’t even known each other for twenty-four hours yet, that they both met Tony in very different parts of his life, and yet they’re already so connected?

Like they’re already brothers.

“You gotta look into bein’ a motivational speaker one of these days,” Harley says finally. “I can already tell people would pay good money to hear these speeches of yours.”

Peter laughs. “Maybe,” he shrugs. He picks at a piece of lint on his sweats, pointedly avoiding Harley’s gaze. “Or maybe I’ll only save ‘em for you.”

A hand closes around his. He doesn’t look up, too worried he’ll burst into tears the moment their eyes meet, but he squeezes back, and he hears Harley chuckle under his breath.

_They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re okay._

“You wanna stay in here?” Peter mumbles through a yawn. God, it’s been a long day.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Harley replies instantly, and he stretches out like a cat, curling up on his side, his knees almost under his chin. He blinks languidly up at Peter, the invitation clear. Swallowing, Peter lays down right next to him, never once letting go of his hand. Their faces are only inches apart.

“You’re a pretty cool dude, Parker,” Harley whispers.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Keener,” Peter replies.

The stars on his ceiling still shine down on them as they finally doze off, safe together.

\--

Tony was right; the lake really is beautiful.

He’s barefoot, jeans rolled up to his mid-calf, letting his feet dangle in the water. It’s warm out, almost seventy degrees, and Peter’s content to just sit here, alone, listening to the birds chirp and the water flow around him. It almost clears his mind.

Even after last night, after Tony immediately came to his rescue, holding him tightly during his panic attack—even as Tony was, momentarily, back to the same person Peter knew and loved, the closest thing he had to a father—Peter still can’t bring himself to actually talk to him about everything he’s been feeling ever since he came back, how he feels worthless, like he’s been forgotten in their whole mess of a family. For some reason, Tony is no longer someone he feels like he can confide in.

So he goes outside.

He’s still slightly reeling from everything that happened with Harley last night, how they’d ended up falling asleep together, exhausted after breaking down talking about things they’d never acknowledge in the daytime. By the time he’d woken up, Harley was gone, and Peter figured he’d just snuck back into his own room before Tony or Pepper could find them together. He hasn’t seen him since, but he’s thankful for it—he needs some alone time.

It’s peaceful in a way Peter’s never really experienced. Living in Queens all his life, he’s gotten used to the cacophony of traffic, sirens and overall noise that comes with living in the city. To be sitting here now, miles away from the constant New York chaos, the only noise being the birds and insects surrounding him, it’s almost unnerving.

He should’ve brought his phone out here, if only to have some music.

Peter kicks his feet out a bit, letting some droplets of water splash up onto his face. It hits him that he hasn’t been swimming in years, not since Ben was alive. He never thought he missed it, but being so close to the water now almost makes him want to jump in.

Maybe the water will help quiet his mind for good.

He’s so distracted by thoughts of swimming that he doesn’t even notice Tony approaching behind him. “You know I came out here the day we moved in?” he says softly, making Peter jump. He turns around to see Tony dressed in jeans and a black sweater, his light hair tousled from the night before. His eyes are alight in a sad kind of way. “Just sat down for a bit to think about everything. Pepper was three months pregnant, and it was way too quiet in that big empty house… so I came out here to try and relax.

“It was a couple months after… after I’d come back. And I think I was still in shock. But sitting out here, alone, while we were just starting to move in… it was the first time I broke down since Titan. Because all I could think about was you. How I’d invite you out here to go swimming, maybe even go camping one night in the summer. How maybe we’d get a dog, a corgi, like you always wanted. I thought about us coming out here to stargaze, to fish, play games… and so much else. I thought about how I could’ve finally been a father to you.”

He chuckles softly, slowly lowering himself down onto the dock next to Peter, their shoulders almost touching. Peter doesn’t move away. “And after Morgan was born, I thought I’d do the same with her. And I did… we played games, I taught her how to swim, I taught her the constellations. I didn’t get a dog, though—Pepper forbade me from it. But still, it wasn’t the same.

“It was too hard to remember you. Which makes me sound like the worst person, and I won’t even try to change your mind, because it’s true. I was a terrible person. But God, I couldn’t remember you… I did just once, and it had me sobbing in this exact place. Pepper had to come out and hold me for hours because it gave me an anxiety attack. Remembering… what had happened… it gave me nightmares for years. The only memory I had of you, the only one my brain chose to keep reminding me of, was you dying in my arms.”

Peter bites his lip, stares down at the water. He thinks he can see a little frog right at the shore, just hopping along.

“Steve was the one who first brought up the idea of time travel, bringing everyone back. Him and Scott and Nat all came, tried to convince me that it was possible… and I told them no. I told them it wasn’t safe, that we were all going to die. I told them we’d already lost, and nothing would change that.” Tony inhales shakily, shaking his head. “I told them I already had a second chance… with this house, with Morgan. And I wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —put that at risk.

“You were the one who changed my mind. Remember that picture we took, when you were still just my intern? We had that framed certificate and you were doing those damn bunny ears on me? We were going all out for that one. I’d hidden it when we moved in, knowing I wouldn’t be able to look at your face every day, the memory of what I’d lost. But I was doing dishes once they left, and it caught my eye, hiding behind the sink… and something in me changed. It was the first time I’d really stopped to see you, to truly think about you when you were alive, and it gave me a reason.

“I figured out time travel so I could bring you back,” Tony whispers emotionally. “We were able to reverse the Snap, bring back everyone who died… but I didn’t do it for everyone. I did it for _you_.”

At this, finally, Peter looks up, eyes wide with shock. “I did it because I love you,” Tony says, and it’s impossible to deny that. If he turned back the hands of time for him…. how can Peter sit here and say that Tony doesn’t love him?

Neither of them speak for a long moment after that, and Peter knows Tony is waiting for him to be honest, to finally tell him how he’s been feeling. But the mere idea terrifies him—what if Tony hates him for being honest?

Tony’s prosthetic shines in the early morning light.

“You haven’t been seeing me,” Peter says quietly, dragging his foot against the water back and forth, rhythmically, something to keep him tethered to this moment. “Ever since I came back… I’ve just been stuck in the background. And—and I hate myself for even saying that, because it feels so selfish. You have a wife and a daughter to worry about now, and Nebula, and Harley, too… and your _arm_ , what happened to you… I can’t just act like me being lonely is the worst thing.”

“Peter, your feelings will always matter,” Tony says. “Doesn’t matter what else is going on. You know you can talk to me about anything—you shouldn’t have been hiding it all this time.”

“When… when everyone was brought back—I don’t know what I expected. But I saw you again… and then just minutes later you almost died in front of me. You _did_ die—Tony, I heard your heart stop! And that’s not something I can just _forget_ about! Is that what you expected of me?” Peter doesn’t realize why he’s suddenly so angry, he didn’t think he was before, but now that it’s out he can’t hold it back any longer. “For me to be fine, the way you are? It’s not like I could tell you the truth about how I was feeling when you—when your heart stopped. You saved the entire world. You lost your arm. And now you’re already back to yourself—actually, you’re _better_ than you were before! And I’m just the letdown, still struggling with it, not being able to joke about it or let it go, right? Is that why you haven’t been seeing me? Because you didn’t _want_ to?”

His chest is heaving. He kicks angrily at the water below.

Tony sighs. “Pete, listen to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve been acting like I’m fine ever since I came out of the hospital. That’s what you’ve been seeing. That’s what Morgan’s been seeing, and Harley, too. Do you know what Pepper’s being seeing? And Happy and Rhodey? They’ve been seeing me break down sobbing taking off my prosthetic at night. They’ve been the ones holding me when I wake up screaming your name because I still remember holding you on Titan. They’ve been the ones coaxing me out of bed every morning because some days I can’t even bring myself to move. They’ve seen the ugly side of me, they’ve taken care of me during all of this. The reason they know that, and you don’t, is because I’m trying to protect you. You already have enough on your plate, baby, and if I told you I _wasn’t_ okay? You, being the self-sacrificing hero you are, would’ve thrown away everything just to help me. And I had to be the strong one, I had to be the rock for my kids. And I try—damn it, I try so fucking hard every day to be that for you. But sometimes I break. I can’t do it all the time, kiddo. And—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I haven’t been seeing you. But if you’re thinking that you have to be okay because I’m okay? I’m not, and you don’t have to be either. Even with my struggles, you and Morgan and Harley will _always_ come first. You are _never_ a letdown, Peter Parker. You may be a little broken right now, but we all are, in our own ways. And we’ll help each other through it.”

Peter thinks about his late night conversation with Harley, and his hands start to shake. 

Tony, of course, notices and leans over to wrap his calloused fingers around Peter’s. “Tell me how I can see you better,” he whispers. “You said I haven’t been seeing you during this, and that’s my fault. So how can I? Tell me how to help you, kiddo.”

Peter considers. He always thought Tony would just _know_ how to help him without him needing to ask. But… “Don’t always try to act like you’re okay around me,” he says. 

Tony frowns. “Pete, it’s not your job to take care of me—“ he begins. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Peter says. “Just—please stop acting like you’re fine for my sake. It’ll help me open up to you if I know you’re dealing with things too. You don’t have to tell me the details, but please just be honest with me.”

“Okay,” Tony says quietly. “Okay, I can do that. But you promise not to ruin yourself for me if I do?”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Peter says softly, “but yes, I promise.”

Tony smiles, gently bumps his shoulder with his own. “What else?” he encourages.

Peter chews on his lower lip, tries to sift through all the shit in his brain to find what he actually needs. “Can we… can we go back to spending time together, just the two of us?” he asks softly. “Like working in the lab again? I don’t mind spending time with Morgan, I really don’t… but I miss when it was just us.”

“Yeah, of course,” Tony says automatically, his face lighting up at the idea. “You know, I think Fri’s been missing you. And I’m sure your suit needs some upgrades.”

Peter smiles weakly. “And… just remember I’m still dealing with it,” he manages, imagining the words on a cloud and floating away. _Free._ “Even if no one else really is. Please.”

“I promise,” Tony says sincerely. He even sticks his pinkie finger out. “Okay?”

Seeing Tony wait for a pinky promise has Peter bursting into laughter, and the action is so foreign that he almost doesn’t recognize it as his own. “Pinkie promise,” he says, linking his finger with Tony’s.

“Good,” Tony says, leaning over to press a long kiss to the top of his head. “I love you so much, Peter. And I’m always here.”

Peter blushes, rests his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I love you.”

They sit like that for a while, silent but comfortable, watching the lake and relishing in each other’s presence, until behind them, a door slams and Harley and Morgan run out to where they’re sitting, each armed with a giant Nerf water gun. Morgan’s is so big she can barely hold it upright, whereas Harley looks like he’s ready for battle.

“Now what is this nonsense?” Tony asks, twisting around with a sly smile on his face. “Keener, did you really come all the way out here just to corrupt my innocent daughter?”

“Yup,” Harley says proudly, raising the water gun. “Besides, someone needed to be the one to teach her how to shoot a water gun. God knows this one wouldn’t do it,” he says with a wink, jerking his head over to Peter.

Peter mock-gasps, jumping to his feet. “Are you claiming I don’t know how to shoot a water gun, Keener? Because I can assure you I can _assassinate_ you with one.”

“Hey, maybe not talk about assassination in front of my little girl,” Tony says.

“What’s assa-assunation?” Morgan asks, stumbling over the word.

“Nothing you need to worry about for at least the next ten years, peanut,” Tony says, scooping her into his arms.

“Ten years,” Harley snorts. “That’s optimistic, old man.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to gasp, that twinkle in his eyes giving him away as he turns to Harley, free hand clutching his heart. “Old?” he exclaims. 

Harley grins, wiggles his eyebrows, and raises the water gun. A wet spot explodes on Tony’s blue t-shirt and Harley cackles. “Got ‘em!” he crows. 

“Oh, you’re dead, Keener!” Tony yells, laughing as he takes Morgan’s water gun from her. “Baby, c’mon, let’s show him what happens when he messes with Iron Man!”

“Parker, with me!” Harley shouts, digging into his front pocket and tossing Peter the smallest, most comical water gun he’s ever seen.

He catches it with ease. “This is an insult!” he exclaims. 

“You’ve got this!” Harley says, grinning at him. “Let’s go!”

And laughing, they charge after Morgan and Tony, water guns spraying everywhere.

Ever since coming back, Peter hasn’t been sure who he is in this giant family he suddenly has. But in this moment, tiny green water gun in his hand, he knows he’s Harley’s second in command, Morgan’s brother, and Tony’s son. 

And he loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a review :)


End file.
